I hesitated, not sure how to explain my uneasiness and with little confidence she'd answer truthfully anyway. "He was held on the Atoll all these years. I'd expect him to hate Atollers, but instead he seems scared. And he wanted to kill me, but now he seems to have changed his mind."
"He has?" McDole pursed her lips. "That's... strange."
"And you both avoid each other."
She laughed. "I don't like him, and I'm embarrassed that we kept him prisoner for so long. It's an uncomfortable combination."
I could almost accept that, if not for the fact that she'd avoided my question. "So, what did they do to him?"
The creases around her eyes seemed to tighten almost imperceptibly. "Standard physical and psychometric testing. Our scientists are curious about genetic drift and inherited diseases. We're your descendants, after all."
"That's all?" It didn't seem enough to trigger Dan's fears.
"Possibly some routine psychological therapy. He'd have been traumatized when he was picked up."
"You don't know?"
"Not in detail. I skimmed through his records after I was transferred there, but we were already processing him for release. It didn't seem important." She ran her hand through her hair. "There was no record of him being mistreated, if that's what you're thinking."
"By Atoll standards..."
"Yes, by our standards. I've told you before, we're not all the same. If it had been up to me, I'd have sent him back at the earliest opportunity."
McDole stood abruptly and headed for the door, almost colliding with Logan and Aurore. She pushed by them and disappeared down the passage, leaving them staring after her.
"Your seduction techniques slipping, Joe?" Aurore asked.
"Off the bottom of the scale."
I explained McDole's Jump idea, and Logan was happy to go along with it. An hour later, Aurore had made some refinements to my sequence, minimizing our recharge time. After that, it was only a matter of executing the sequence. I'd sent out a warning that we'd be in for a few rough days with the repeated Jumps. I also programmed an automatic countdown to broadcast around the ship so nobody would be caught by surprise.
As I was doing last-minute checks, I noticed a blip in systems use and expanded the display to show more details. Dan had been spending up to ten hours a day inside the simulator. It looked like he was running the same scenarios over and over, as though he was struggling to pick it up. It didn't seem healthy, but at least it was keeping him occupied.
When the Jump sequence began, it was like someone had jammed the pause button on activity onboard the ship. The physiological and psychological effects seemed to mount with each successive maneuver, and I was always on edge when we hit the final countdown. It was fortunate we needed breaks while the ship recharged—otherwise, I think we'd have lost the entire crew to nausea and starvation.
"Is this the last one?" Aurore was almost doubled over in a ball, her face puffy and streaked where tears had blotched her makeup. She looked ready to throw up again, and I felt the same.
"Yeah. After that, it's straightforward information processing."
Logan sighed. "I'm ready for that."
The countdown ticked off the last second, and we hopped to the last point in our schedule. Several minutes later, the sensor signals kicked in and started finalizing the data set. It would take a while to get the last of the data back and process it, but was still faster and more thorough than doing it the way we'd been planning.
"Could you make a Ballen-ball to do this?" Aurore asked. "Program it to hop around the system to gather a data snapshot?"
I laughed at the nickname. "I suppose so. The real problem would be the Casimir generators. They're relatively large, so the unit wouldn't be any smaller than my communication drone. In fact, with the detection gear it might be even bigger."
Aurore shrugged. "Not very practical then."
"It depends. Technology has a habit of shrinking, so you never know." I gave her a thumbs-up. "Write it up and patent it. It might make you a fortune."
"I like that idea." Logan stretched his arms up, working knots from his shoulders. "I've nothing against being rich."
"Who said anything about you?" Aurore poked her tongue out at him.
Logan grinned. "Share and share alike."
Aurore made a show of thinking for a moment. "Okay. But only if I can have my own dance studio."
"You hate teaching."
"What's that got to do with it?" Aurore laughed.
When she was younger, Aurore had trained as a dancer, and for a long time had been torn between doing it professionally or continuing her science training. I'd seen her dance, and she was good enough to have gone pro.
"Never interfere with a woman's ambition." I waved a finger at Logan in mock reproach.
Aurore chuckled. "Glad to see one man on this ship understands women—even if only partially."
I sighed. I wished that were true. Perhaps then I'd have been able to fix my relationship with Dollie. Instead, the gulf between us had grown even larger than the physical distance that now separated us.
"Do you think anything much has happened on Earth while we've been gone?" I said.
Aurore's expression turned serious. "What are you thinking of, Joe?"
Logan caught my eye, and I guessed he knew what I was thinking about.
"The All-Parties Conference. They might have already met and thrashed out some sort of strategic plan."
"You know better than that," said Logan. "When do politicians make progress quickly?"
"I know. But this is important. The whole world's at risk, and it's getting worse almost by the day."
"That's what they said a hundred and fifty years ago." Logan grimaced. "And look at what's happened."
McDole staggered in holding her stomach, looking as if she had thrown up. "That was the last?"
When I nodded, she seemed to relax. "When will the analysis be complete?"
I checked the progress of the data compilation. "Not long. We have around ninety percent coverage."
"Anything preliminary showing up?" she said.
I accessed the data cloud and transferred it to the large display volume. Everyone gathered around, peering at the nebula-like points.
"Filter for refined metals," Aurore said.
There were various blobs and traces around the area, but when I cross-referenced them they all proved to be false signals from asteroids and other space junk.
"Any traces of materials moving in trajectories from an explosion?" Logan asked.
I refined the display again, but everything appeared to be moving as nature intended. At least, at the resolution we had.
"Rogue EM signals?" suggested McDole.
There were some, but again they all tracked with natural sources. By the time the last sensor returns came back, there was only one conclusion.
"There's nothing here," I said.
My arms and legs felt like they weighed more than they did on Earth, even though we were at one-third of a g, and I leaned against the wall. I hadn't expected to find the ship that easily, but the farther we traveled the more it seemed pointless. For the first time, I wished I'd stayed on Earth. Maybe getting miserably drunk and programming asteroid mining robots was all I was good for anymore.
"I'm going to pay a visit to Corporal Grant, if anyone wants to join me. He has some powder that might help right about now."
"Hold on, Joe," said Logan.
I didn't want to have that conversation with others around.
He tried again. "We need to program the next Jump."
"Tomorrow's good enough." I didn't turn to face him. "We have to recharge anyway."
"I'd prefer to get it set up now so everyone has adequate time to prepare."
My muscles tightened, and my teeth ground against each other. "It's better to spread out disappointments, you know. Too many can kill you."
When he eventually replied, Logan's voice was softer. "Okay. Do what you feel is right."
I clambered down the passage, my limbs stiff. Nobody cared when the Jump was. It was a waste of time, like this whole mission. They knew it as much as I did. The only people who didn't were the stuffed-shirt politicos and paranoid military who'd insisted on a search against all good advice.
The wardroom was empty, so I headed toward Grant's quarters. I was about to knock on his door when something stopped me. I wasn't even sure what. I needed a drink. Needed it like a drowning man needs a gasp of air. It didn't matter anymore—none of it did. If that was the way out, then why the hell not—at least it was painless.
I lifted my hand again but froze. Then I spun around and climbed back up to my quarters, with no idea why I hadn't knocked. Something inside wouldn't let me, and it made me even angrier that I couldn't figure out what it was. I slammed my bad hand into the wall. It had closed up and the MediSkin had long washed away, but it still sometimes itched. Now it flared up angrily.
Leaning against the wall, I hammered my forehead against it. Maybe I should take a walk out the airlock without a p-suit. At least then I'd be out of mine and everybody else's misery. Logan could pilot the ship back—he didn't need me. Once I cleared my system locks, he could take the ship anywhere.
I opened the door to head to the bridge and almost tripped over McDole. She stepped back in surprise when she saw me.
"You startled me." She ran her hand through her hair, making it prickle out from her head. "I thought you were going to see Grant."
"That's not the direction I'm going," I said.
"You're bleeding."
I looked down. The wound had split open again, leaving blood trickling down my fingers. I hadn't even felt it. But it didn't matter anymore either. "No worries. I'm tough."
Her eyes searched my face. "Are you, Joe?"
"Sure. Meet me at the airlock in five, and I'll give you a ringside seat."
McDole's face suffused with blood, and her lips drew back in a snarl. Then her hand snapped out and cracked against my cheek, hard enough it felt like my jaw was dislocated.
"Don't you dare. Don't you ever say something like that."
Chapter Seventeen
Logan eyeballed me as I entered the control room the following day. After seeing what he needed to, his face split into a grin and he slapped my shoulder.
"You're doing okay, Joe."
I slipped into my seat. "Maybe."
I triggered the Jump countdown and sat back. My busted-up hand was covered with another MediSkin patch, but the split had torn so unevenly I'd backed it up with a roll of tape, making it feel like I was wearing a boxing glove. McDole had marched off after our encounter with no explanation, leaving me wondering what had made her react that way. That said, it seemed to have knocked some sense back into me, and I wasn't thinking about airlocks anymore. Or at least not for now.
GJ 3379, more recently and presumptuously renamed Buang's Star by an Atoller who'd surveyed it, was under five light-years away from our current position. It was another dwarf star with little to distinguish it, other than it happened to be the nearest star in the constellation of Orion as seen from Earth.
From a colonization perspective, dwarf stars weren't great candidates. But they were more numerous than sun-like ones, and nothing we knew precluded them from having habitable planets, which made surveying them important. And if nothing else, they were useful stepping stones to other systems.
But, following Aurore's logic, many of them would be good candidates for large-scale orbital or free-floating habitats. It also occurred to me that as binary stars tended to have large debris fields, they'd make for easier access to raw materials too. If you're already in space, moving resources around costs next to nothing—the expensive part is getting things in and out of a gravity well. And that was true even with the Elevators and the other orbital technology we had available.
I'd taken the opportunity to get a solid six hours of sleep, so not only did I feel more rested, the darkness that had surrounded me had lifted to an extent. I could still feel it lurking at the back of my mind, but at least it had dropped away enough to allow me to function somewhat normally.
By now, the Jump seemed almost routine, and after cruising for half a day to recharge, we executed the same pattern of Jumps we'd taken around Ross-614. With no secondary star to complicate matters, the process was shorter this time. Buang may have attached his name to it, but as far as star systems went it was about as welcoming as a seat in a cactus patch.
After the analysis came up empty again, it was time to move on.
We jumped to GJ 3454 with at least some sense of optimism. Although this was another dwarf star, there was a PAC station located there. The system was known to have a number of planets and also held the most extensive debris belt yet found. Like Buang's Star, it had been labeled Learmonth by the Atolls, and the PAC had recognized this by naming their station after the new designation.
The Jump was short, so we had some power reserves, and I used them to bring us closer to the station. If the Sacagawea had gotten this far, the PAC would have almost certainly detected it. The star had a planetary system somewhat similar to Sol's with one substantial rocky planet, two small gas giants, and several smaller planetoids. Learmonth base was relatively close in, orbiting at around ninety-million kilometers in order to capture the star's feeble solar radiation. This also gave it easy access to the inner edge of the vast Etts debris field. As we approached, we picked up signals from a second source. It appeared the station had visitors already—a PAC vessel that identified as the PTN Kunan.
Most of the system was nestled within the one A.U. limit, which complicated our approach. I took the ship high above the equatorial region to find a route with less potential for debris then dropped back down once we were nearer to the station. By the time I'd finished we were close, but it wasn't what anyone would call convenient.
"Sixty-million kilometers. Comms lag about seven minutes round trip." I frowned at Logan. "Sorry, boss. Best I can do without risking a Jump problem."
Logan clasped his left hand around his fist. "Nature of the business. Send them a canned message that we intend to approach and will dock if they're willing."
He left with Hernandez, discussing other possible search strategies. I sent the message then set course at maximum speed and groaned when I saw the ETA.
"Three days." I shook my head.
"You'd think with all the power this ship has"—Aurore thumped the arm of her chair—"there'd be some way of getting around faster."
"If you think of something, be sure to let me know." I stood and stretched my back, feeling in need of another session with BRUCE. "I'm going to grab some food. Want to join me?"
"Might as well as my man seems to have abandoned me."
"He has a lot on his mind."
"Don't defend him, Joe. He's a big boy and can take care of himself." She grinned. "And so can I."
Sullivan and Dan were in the wardroom, sitting either side of the large display. They were playing a game of ZHexChess, and from the pieces left on the boards, Sullivan was losing badly.
He nodded at us, his concentration almost entirely focused on the chess board. After a pause, he moved one of his Marauders and leaned back with a confident glow on his face. But before his spine touched the seat, Dan worked his controls and one of his Reapers moved to lock onto Sullivan's Star Destroyer.
"Check and mate," Dan murmured. "That's another drink you owe me, kid."
"Damn it!" Sullivan slapped the table next to the screen. "You're impossible."
I waited while Aurore selected her meal and then grabbed one myself. She'd chosen some of the Atoll supplies, while I'd picked a laughingly named roast beef on rye sandwich that had never seen beef, and I was suspicious about the "rye" designation too.
Dan ambled out, leaving Sullivan with his head in his hands. "How does the old bastard do it?"
I opened my sandwich and waited for the steam to clear before taking a bite. "You on a losing streak?"
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"Don't tease him, Joe." Aurore nibbled on her food.
"Every goddamn game. Whether it's chess, poker, or Jerundra Clash, he always does it." Sullivan slashed his hand at the controls to close the screen down. "I owe him a week's supply of booze now."
"Maybe you should challenge him at something you're good at," I said.
"Yeah, right." Sullivan clambered off his seat and headed for the door. "I was level seventy Jerundra during boot camp."
With that, he was gone too.
Aurore shrugged. "Sounds like a sore loser."
That might be true. But there was also something odd about it. I could see Dan winning at poker and maybe even chess—if you give credence to the idea that old age and treachery always beats youth and enthusiasm—but Jerundra was an alt-real twitch combat game. "If Sullivan's level seventy, then he's in the upper ten percent from what I know."
Aurore pursed her lips. "You're right. That's pretty much a semi-pro rating."
"How could someone Dan's age touch him?"
"Maybe Dan got lucky or the kid had a bad night." Aurore sipped on a tube of juice. "It happens."
I finished off my unsatisfactory sandwich and washed it down with some water. I wanted to be well hydrated for my intended workout, not riding a caffeine buzz.
"Time for me to do a robot beatdown," I said.
Aurore sipped from a tube of herbal tea. "Do you ever manage that?"
"Don't tell anyone, but I'm hoping to work up to a draw someday."
I was almost at the wardroom door when the main alarm sounded. I glanced at Aurore, then we both bolted up the corridor to the control room.
I dropped into my chair and checked the diagnostic screens as Aurore slid into her own seat. There was no sign of damage or malfunction.
Logan barreled in with Hernandez only steps behind him.
"What have we got?" Logan said, pulling up his own displays.
"Everything's in the green," I said. "Not even a power fluctuation."
"Check tactical," said Aurore. "I think there's something there."
"Huh?" I activated the display and everything looked normal at first glance. Then I saw it—a blip on the edge of the screen, barely inside our sensor range. "Is that a ship?"
Transformation Protocol Page 19
